Never Past Sorry
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Kira and Odo find a private place to forgive each other. My take on the closet scene in "You Are Cordially Invited".


Never Past Sorry

By Laura Schiller

Based on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Copyright: Paramount

"I've never found anyone of my own kind (…) except you."  
>- Michael Hoeye, <em>The Sands of Time<em>

It was the spring wine, Nerys told herself. Three glasses of fine Bajoran spring wine, some heart-pounding drum music and an hour or so of dancing had all combined to make what little reason she posessed fly out from underneath her rusty hair. Why else would she be sitting in Jadzia Dax's narrow closet with the same man she'd been afraid to look in the eye for weeks?

She looked up. Good grief, that Idanian spy had been right – he really did have bedroom eyes. Of all times to notice. The dim lamp in the closet showed what a soft blue they were, deep-set in his rough face, watching her with the grimly apprehensive look of a man facing a firing squad. Any thoughts she might have had of accusing him vanished. Odo should never look at her like that.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison.

Nerys giggled, her hand over her mouth, out of sheer relief to get the words out.

"_You're_ sorry?" Odo growled with fierce incredulity.

"I shouldn't have judged you so harshly for what you did. You didn't even know about Rom or the fleet, did you, locked up in your quarters like that?"

She had been horribly lonely without him, she remembered. At least Sisko and Dax had still been fighting on her side even in their absence; the prospect Odo betraying his crewmates – betraying _her_ – to join the other Changelings had been unbearable to contemplate. So she had snapped and lost her temper; that, along with prejudice, had always been a failing of hers.

Without Odo's calm, it was so much harder to keep that temper under control.

"I shouldn't have abandoned you," he said.

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed. He dropped his eyes. "But then you came back for me …"

Words could not express the way she had felt, peering around a barrel in the cargo hold to find her Cardassian pursuers littering the floor, and Odo leading a team of his security guards towards her as coolly as if saving her life were part of morning exercises.

"You saved my life, even after I'd turned my back on you. I was so ashamed … "

"Same here," he said, twisting his thin lips into an ironic smile. "I was afraid we really _were_ past forgiveness, as you said."

_We are way past 'sorry'_, she had replied to his apology, with the cold, quiet fury that frightened even her when it took hold, before walking away. Thank the Prophets she had been wrong.

"You and me?" Nerys reached over and covered Odo's hand with hers. "Never. We are _never_ past forgiveness."

"Do you mean it, Nerys?"

"Of course I do." She squeezed his hand and then let go, blushing; his voice had taken on a gravelly edge of almost painful longing, reminding her of his two-hundred-year-old future self declaring his love.

"I mean,_ you_ forgave me when you found out about Vaatrick," she said, in an effort to distract him from whatever thoughts he might be having in the direction of that other Odo.

Vaatrick was the collaborator she had killed in self-defense during the Occupation of Bajor, lying to Odo about it afterwards as he conducted the investigation. He had found her out five years later, and would have been justified in sending her to prison – but he hadn't.

"You know perfectly well why, Major." Odo looked down at his hand, spreading his fingers slightly, as if her touch still lingered there. "I've been your … ally … since the day we met. The Queen couldn't change that, as hard as she tried … nothing can."

Her ally? Trust Odo to use a neutral phrase like that, and still put a wealth of feeling behind it. It was downright embarrassing to think of the station's lone wolf security chief, as detached from Solid life as the Prophets themselves, falling in love with a screwed-up former terrorist like Kira Nerys. Loving her enough to forgive her for lying to him about killing Vaatrick. Enough to let eight thousand people be erased from history to save her life. Enough to turn his back on his own species for her sake, more than once, and ask for nothing in return except her company.

"I owe you so much, Odo," she said sadly, "All the times you've rescued me, or listened to me rant about something stupid … or forgiven me for _doing_ something stupid … you know, I'm almost glad – in a twisted way – that there was one time you missed out on supporting me. It makes us just a little more even."

He nodded gravely, understanding this too, as he understood practically everything about her.

"The way I see it, we _are_ even," he told her. "There's no question of debts here, Major. Do I look Ferengi to you?"

She smiled and shook her head at that familiar sneer. Insulting Quark meant he must be feeling better.

"What did you mean … about not being ready for paradise?"

That was another memory which had been haunting her, and she was afraid if she didn't ask him now, she might lose her nerve and never find out. After defecting back from the Founder's side, Odo had told her: _The Link was paradise, but it turns out I'm not ready for paradise._

"That's what the other Changelings would have said," he said, with a would-be casual shrug that did not disguise the bitterness in his voice. "The Queen thinks I'm confused, immature … that while living with Solids has clouded my judgement, but it's only a matter of time until I join her."

Nerys clenched her fists on her knees, glaring down at the blood-red silk of her cocktail dress. How she'd enjoy trapping that woman in a quantum stasis field and watching her crumble like a pastry!

"_I_ think," Odo continued, "That my judgement has never been clearer than it was the day I left her. She is cruel, bigoted, manipulative, and has not the least understanding of either Solids or myself. The Link _was_ paradise, Major … " He sighed. "No sense denying it. But as long as the Founders insist on forcing their 'order' onto the galaxy, I refuse to call them my people." He held up one hand, gesturing sharply for emphasis. "Captain Sisko, the senior crew, my security team and you, Major – you are the ones I can respect, the ones I trust, which matters more to me than genetics ever will."

She doubted it was Captain Sisko he thought of, as he took both her hands until they were touching palm to palm. Two Changelings about to link.

"_You _are my people now," he whispered.

She had yet to make up her mind about her feelings for Odo, but one thing was certain – right now she envied the Founder Queen with a passion. If only she could give him what the Link gave him, make him a little less lonely for the paradise his honor denied him. If only she could be his home …

She could be his friend at least, she decided. Give him what he had once told her meant everything – her time, her jokes, her honesty, her support. Everything she felt capable of giving, she whose heart had been broken more often than she could count. And perhaps, just perhaps … one day, when she felt brave enough, she might dare to give him something more.

"I'm honored," she told him, brown eyes smiling into blue.

They talked a great deal more after that, barely even noticing the music and laughter of Jadzia's bachelorette party diminish as the guests began to leave. They talked about Nerys' efforts to undermine Gul Dukat's control of the station, about Jake and Rom's introduction to terrorism, about Tora Ziyal – especially Tora Ziyal, who had been killed so suddenly and whom Nerys still mourned like a little sister. They both agreed that without his peacemaking daughter to appeal to his better nature, Dukat would be more insufferable than ever. And Garak, true to form, was behaving as if Ziyal had never existed, and the only matter of concern was Worf and Dax's Klingon wedding attire.

"If I didn't despise them both on principle," Nerys remarked, "I'd be worried."

"I know what you mean, Major."

It felt good to hear Odo say that, even about a sorrowful subject such as Ziyal's death. A relief to confide in him, pour out her fears and her worries of the past months of war, listen to his own concerns about Dukat, Weyoun and the Breen. All she needed was a mug of raktajino and a bit more space to prop up one leg, and she'd feel as safe and contented as she did in Odo's office. How had she gone without this for so long?

The opening closet doors caught them in a blaze of light, leaning so close together that Jadzia shot Nerys a meaningful smirk. Come to think of it, it _had_ been rather quiet outside. Glancing around the room, Nerys found it empty – except for a pale, unsteady Jadzia and a very grim Worf. If she weren't so happy, she would be embarrassed down to her toes.

"Is the party over?" she asked, glancing at a nearby timepiece.

Jadzia nodded.

"Oh, it's morning … I'm on duty." She got to her feet, rather stiff after almost a night of sitting on that crate, and shared an embarrassed look with Odo as he followed her out the room. On impulse, she turned back to hug Jadzia.

"It was a great party," she told her best female friend.

_Prophets, bless Jadzia Dax, her music and her spring wine and her closet, for helping me find Odo again. Thank you for this day, and please, please let us go on the way we are: friends who are never past forgiveness, no matter what._


End file.
